


the day

by 6dr_pil6



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: A realistic but not ff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Based on Jinyoung’s “The Day”, College AU, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, My notes are a mess dont even bother to read them, Old memories, Slow Burn, Wonpil centeric, still dont know how a03 works so pray for me, we actually dont know a Brian it’s all about younghyun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-06-14 18:41:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15395013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/6dr_pil6/pseuds/6dr_pil6
Summary: Wonpil still remembers the days without Younghyun.He wishes he didn’t though.





	1. the good days

Wonpil remembers the good days. 

Which felt like a lifetime ago from now, actually, it was a whole different life. With a whole different Wonpil and a whole different setting. They were nice days per-say. But Wonpil doesn’t miss them.

He doesn’t miss the days where he spent all his afternoons by the Hangang River listening to the same nostalgic songs just to clear his mind from the headache caused by all his classes. The classes that caused him an unreasonable amount of stress but also gave him a pleasant joy when he passes them. He doesn’t miss them. Nor the worn down apartment he barely spent time in because of his multiple occupations just to pay for rent. It was comfy and felt like home to Wonpil. 

The good days when Wonpil spent all his time with just his headphones and MP3 player.

Just him and his music.

It was nice.

Indulging in every song and feeling the connection with each beat and each lyric from his small ears to the core of his thin bones. Blocking out the noices of the busy night and the busy day. Blocking out the voices from people who wanted nothing but a free A from Wonpil’s well writen notes in class. Blocking out the media and all the horific events happening daily in the tragic world. Blocking everything out. Except his own positive thoughts. It was nice.

He remembers not even needing to use his voice for months and even forgetting what he sounded like himself. 

He remembers stacking boxes above countless boxes with his music and not even remembering whether his shift was over or not. Then going to a small business pastry shop to brew coffee for eight or nine people at most and to make dough for whoever had the morning shift the next day. All while day dreaming about his life after college.

Even though Wonpil felt like he was living a pretty good life as a college student, he always had a yearning for something much greater.

He was satisfied from where he was at in life right now; good grades, passing classes, not entirely struggling to get food on the dinner table, and having all in all peace of mind, he craved for something more.

Something that he never had in his short lived life.

Wonpil spent a couple of months ignoring the confusing sensation and kept living. More like just getting through everyday. Surviving. If we’re trying to be dramatic. 

Just surviving. 

That’s exactly what it felt like. 

Wonpil’s happiness was slowly growing thin and cautiously dripping through his fingers, making a loud drip whenever he lost another drop. 

He couldn’t ignore this. So he started to observe himself objectively everyday to look for what was missing. And to look for the ‘thing’ he continued to crave. 

Pathetically, Wonpil already knew what he wanted even before the hunt.

He wanted company of someone, not just the beats and melody of his music for a change. It’s not like Wonpil wanted to totally get settled in with a lover. He felt as if he wasn’t ready for that yet. He didn’t need the love from a lover yet. Maybe the love from a friend would be enough for now. 

But it was hard.

Already having a reputation in college for being just some smart, lonely, guy with headphones glued to his ears 24/7, it was hard to approach people and to find the voice and words that would make them want to stay with him. When had making friends ever been hard for Wonpil? He tried to approach the people that asked for his notes but soon found that he wouldn’t find the unconditional love he was looking for from them. He also tried to approach people outside of class by starting friendly conversations about class, but alas, it was the middle of the second semester. Of course everyone had made all the friends they needed to get through the poor life of college, why would they befriend Wonpil for no reason. However, for some reason just him looking for a friend gave his conscious a snippet of temporary satisfaction. He felt as if he had stood up and at least tried to get what he wanted. At least he did that, right? Wonpil was, in a way, proud of himself, and that kept him going for a bit longer. 

In the end, Wonpil didn’t make any friends. 

However, he kept smiling to himself (because he had no one else to).

This didn’t mean anything. Just that he lost a chance to make friendships that would last. It wasn’t the end of the world.

Wonpil remembers the good days when he thought everything was good.


	2. the bad days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :’)

Wonpil remembers the bad days.

He definitely doesn’t miss them. Though he doesn’t particularly despise them now, he doesn’t miss them. The days where he would loose all of his built up hope and happiness, even as he tried to grasp the few remains of the fleeing emotion. Days that influenced him so heavily that he would conjure up thoughts that he never knew could exist in his mind. Thoughts that were so foreign, Wonpil didn’t know where they came from, the Wonpil with happiness that is. Doesn’t miss them.

The bad days when Wonpil would come home to a deserted apartment, his apartment, and feel unwelcomed.

So unwelcomed to the extent where he would feel uncomfortable lying down in his own bed and feel uncomfortable sitting at the desk he labeled as a dining table to quickly finish his cold, stale waffle. 

Then after feeling like a guest in his so called home, he would go to work.

Where he was miserable. 

After coming twenty minutes early, he would sit at his desk as quiet as he could so he wouldn’t be spotted or noticed. When he was however, (he always is), he would be ridiculed and be sent to his supervisor’s office. 

To summarize Wonpil’s situation, he was getting bullied. In the work force. Weird, but not unheard of.

Wonpil graduated college in two and a half years and decided to just quickly start work to pay off his student loans, which were now knocking on his door. He had a plan of just doing office work for four to five years to save up so he could quit and do what he truly loved. Something in the music industry. This was a risk for Wonpil because taking up a music career in this day and age was almost suicide. So many talented people. Too many talented people. Wonpil still wanted to try however.

He didn’t want to be an idol or solo artist or something alone those lines. He just wanted to become a sort of music teacher. He had the degree and everything. 

He needed to save up first. 

So, a boring office job could do for now.

However, getting one was quite hard. Wonpil was never good with people. And looking back on his life in college, Wonpil hasn’t really interacted with anyone in the last couple of years. Thus, going in for an interview was bloody and messy.

Wonpil couldn’t answer even one question without stuttering about three times. There once was an incident where he came in and tried to talk about himself to show he was qualified. A man and a women started to laugh as he spoke. He didn’t say anything remotely humorous. 

It’s just that he was making a fool of himself with every word that came out of his mouth.

Maybe the man and women were being kind to him.

They didn’t want Wonpil to embarrass himself any further and wanted to hint to him that it was already too late to save the interview. Maybe they were being kind.

Wonpil tried to make himself believe this. And he succeeded. The wound to his slowly eroding confidence still ached after the meeting however.

Every interview he failed continued to deepen the already sunken hole.

But, one man came along.

He told Wonpil he would hire him just because he seemed like a genuinely nice person and because he was in Wonpil’s position at one point of his life. 

The point of utter desperation.

After Wonpil had taken too many hits in the gut, his words seemed to bring a little life back to his eyes and smile.

Wonpil was happy.

He was so happy that he sobbed a thank you to the man and bowed two hundred and seventy degrees. Too happy that he forgot to how to read when the man handed him a contract. Too happy that he didn’t notice the way the man grabbed the contract out of his hands when he lifted his pen from the contract. Too happy to realize what had just taken place. Too happy to realize what he had just done to himself. Too happy that when he got back to his apartment he cried out of joy.

After he had cried himself to sleep that night, he woke up with a headache and a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

What had he done.

At that point in time, Wonpil started to panic.

He tried to remember what had even taken place the day before, but the headache continued to grow in his head every second he opened his eyes. Wonpil was still wearing his clothes from yesterday and pulled out his phone to check the time. However, he did not even notice the giant numbers next to the small notification in the middle of the dim screen. He clicked it with a steady but hesitant finger.

‘Welcome to your new job, Kim Wonpil. We will be expecting you this Friday to start your training with us. We hope you get plenty of rest by then. 

Here is a link of a scanned copy of your contract with all the information you will need. 

/link/

We are excited to start working with you.

Park Jinyoung (CEO) 

JYP CO.’

Wonpil placed his phone down next to him and started to cry. 

He didn’t know why however. He wasn’t sad, nor frustrated or angry. He wasn’t happy, nor overwhelmed. He didn’t really feel anything at this moment. He was confused on why he was crying in the first place. He felt more numb than anything. As if his body just wanted to go back to sleep and forget about everything. 

He was just being problematic.

Wonpil gathered himself up from the sudden tears and started to think logically. 

This job couldn’t be a bad thing, Wonpil wanted to find a full time job quickly and now he’s gotten what he wanted. It was especially important now that Wonpil found a job (with the student loans coming in). This full time job couldn’t be hard either, he was going to get paid only ten dollars more than the minimum wage per hour, if he remembers correctly. What was the worst they could make him do? Become a front desk worker? He was going to be fine.

Wonpil felt himself take a breath of relief and his worries got lifted up from his narrow shoulders.

He picked up his phone from his side and clicked the link to the contract.

With every sentence Wonpil continued to read, boulders and bones started to drop from the heavens onto his back and head.

After Wonpil finished the contract email, he turned off his phone and placed it down by his side. It was too early to be feeling this many emotions. Wonpil stayed still for a while until he closed his eyes and allowed his tears to return. He felt his lips stretch and checks pull slightly. Ah, a smile. A smile that portrays a variety of mellow emotions. Disbelief, panick, shock, pity, and sadness. A slave contract.

Wonpil was sad.

He was sad because he had been a fool to trust a man who had no reason to hire him except for cheap words. He was sad because he let himself go so deep into desperation that he forgot the only quality of himself that Wonpil thought could one day save him and could get him through the distgusting world. Cautiousness. 

The slave contract lasted for six years. 

Six years of his life. 

Wonpil already read throughly through the contract and knew he couldn’t get out of this, no matter what he did. So, he sucked up the depressed aroma in the room with one long inhale and attempted to conjure up a bit of determination.

Wonpil would make it through this. He had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall ok.  
> I was planning to post this like a week ago and make it short and crisp as the first chapter. But writing bout sad things is so much fun so this chapter was going to be like 5x longer than the first. On that note, i just kept writing and writing this chapter or about 4 days or so. And then i just got rlly lazy for some reason and didn’t continue on my writing spree. So, i was almost done with this gigantic chapter when i kept adding more things; thus, making the chapter much longer than it needed to be. Is2g this segment (also known as the 2nd chapter) would have been a shit too long so i decided to break up this book in 5 chapters in all instead of 3. So instead of my original format (chapter 1 -good days- chapter 2 -bad days- and chapter 3 -days with brian), it’ll be (chapter 2 -bad days- chapter 3 -more bad days lmao- chapter 4 -depressing days- and chapter 5 -days with brian). I hope you don’t mind, if you even understand anything i just wrote.
> 
> I will hopefully get chapter 3 out there soon bc i basically have a shit ton of more content(?) that was supposed to be in this chapter anyways. 
> 
> thx for reading if u are


	3. worse days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter (kinda)

Two years have past.

Wonpil’s job hasn’t been too rough and torturous as he thought. He would show up at the required nine am and check in without much ado. After that, he would sort maybe two thousand and a half to three thousand papers coming from all over the the floor in the required four hours. He would get a fifteen minute break of sitting in his cubicle and resting his eyes just after he finished carrying the multiple boxes of sorted and organized papers to the fourth floor’s front desk. Ectera.

Nobody really noticed Wonpil while he was at work; therefore, nobody really talked to him.

Except he had his music, of course. 

Wonpil had his headphones on the whole time he was sitting at his cubicle. The headphones were always playing a variety of classical music, r&b, pop, alternative rock, and ballads to Wonpil’s ears. Without the constant beats and melodies playing, Wonpil believes he wouldn’t survive a day in the well controlled building. 

His music once again became a familiar friend. 

Wonpil had given up on becoming social and expanding his presence after the second week of work. There was barely any time in the day where Wonpil wasn’t at work. Ten hours of work everyday really takes a toll on the body and mind. There weren’t any holiday days off either for Wonpil so the thought of a vacation of traveling was already out of the door. Not that Wonpil really had the desire to see the different parts of the world at the moment. He was fine with the busy Seoul. Fine with his fingers aching and getting occasional small cuts from papers instead of stronger and calloused from the piano. Just fine. 

Wonpil was fine with music being his only friend. The music never asked him for money or anything. Wonpil never had to impress the music. He never had to entertain the music with small quirks or make the effort to make it laugh. The music didn’t need anything from Wonpil. It was there unconditionally, keeping Wonpil company without any requirements.

:

It was... 

bad.

So very bad.

The start of the third year was already so different from the previous two. 

Unlike before, Wonpil was called to his supervisor’s office on the first day back to work in the new year, after half of week of days off. 

When he stepped into the office, he felt his conscious tug on his hair trying to tell him ‘don’t screw this up’. His boss, Im Jaebum, stood tall and proud in front of his desk while looking down at the hesitant Wonpil with his sharp eyes.

“Kim Wonpil, I have been informed that this is now your third year working in JYP CO.” Before Wonpil could confirm the stated sentence, the man continued to speak firmly, “As a result, some of the rules for you have changed.”

“What do you mean sir, am I taking another position?”

“No, you are just being given another set of rules that you must follow according to your contract.” Jaebum said while handing Wonpil a small packet of papers. The front paper read “Third Year”. 

“Number 1, if you are late even by the slightest second, you will have to talk to me in the morning and you will have a punishment, we are not accepting that irresponsible behavior at JYP CO. Number 1.5, the required time to arrive has changed to seven am. Eight pm is still the check out time. Number 3, if you miss work then you are required to make up those days in your break at the end of the year. Thus, if you miss three days of work in the year, you are required to make up those days in your three day break. If you miss more, then that will be counted for next years.”

Wonpil was shocked. 

“U-Um sir, how am I supposed to work twelve hours a d-ay?? That doesn’t sound re-s-onable.”

Jaebum scoffed, as if Wonpil’s question sounded like rubbish. “Leave and do your work, the four hour requirement is still in place, time is ticking”

Wonpil left the office dumbfounded. How was he supposed to work twelve hours a day? How was he supposed to make up the missed days if he became ill? The determination from two years ago still lingered in his mind and throbbed. With that, Wonpil walked back to his cubicle and started to sort the stacked papers in a rush, for this was the start of the peak. He was half way through.

Wonpil managed to follow the old rules and new rules without fault for a bit over half the year. The day he broke one could be considered in Wonpil’s mind as the day where his life went a little too downhill. A little too steep for anyone to slide or walk down, only fall down.

He had woken up the same time as he always did and got ready as he always did. He ate a quick breakfast and grabbed all that was necessary for the day at work. After locking the doors shut, he walked to the bus station which was two blocks away from his complex. When he was one block away, he heard a man screaming. He couldn’t make out any words from the man though. He continued to walk along the sidewalk with his bag, choosing to ignore the loud commotion. The neighborhood was never a good one and people tended to have loud parties and fights seemingly every night. When he had barely past the apartment with the screaming man in it, he heard a unnatural thud behind him. It was a young man, probably the one screaming (since the screaming had faded. He was lying face down and his arms were stretched out to reach Wonpil’s shoes. Wonpil jumped away however. A women then rushed out of the apartment and looked wildly around until her eyes reached Wonpil’s flustered ones. She looked down and jumped to run toward the boy with a pure look of wild rage.

“Younghyun! What the fuck are you doing!” The lady screamed. She started to kick him roughly into his side as if that would get him to stand up.

Wonpil stretched out his arm to stop the kicking and glared at the lady with all the justice he could muster this early. He then tried to pick Younghyun up even though he was obviously much smaller than him. He managed to get Younghyun to sit up and eventually convinced him to stand up. After that, Younghyun punched the women square in the face. That’s when Wonpil noticed how many bruises were covering Younghyun’s face. 

He knew that he didn’t want to get himself stuck in this situation so he backed away quickly from the scene and tried to run to the bus station as fast as he could, not wanting to miss the bus. 

Younghyun obviously thought that Wonpil had no where to rush off to so he shouted at him.

“Hey! Come back I still need to talk to you!”

Wonpil didn’t comply to the request and continued to run. Younghyun saw this and ran after him, leaving the lady to scream at him while clutching her face. Wonpil was no where near fit enough to continue running, however, hearing Younghyun’s quick steps right behind him made him have the sudden wave of fear that kept him spirinting. He was a corner away from the bus station. Fate was against him that day.

Younghyun grabbed his shoulder and twisted him around to face him in a quick motion. But, the laws of physics was also keeping up with the action and the momentum from the running continued to launch both Wonpil and Younghyun forward until Wonpil’s back collided with the hard rock ground with Younghyun onto of him. Fate, physics, and also gravity was working against him that day.

As they were mid air though, Wonpil had a flying thought that his is how he would die. Cracking his head on the concrete, that’s how it would go, no concussion, just sudden death. What a good way to die. Somehow, Younghyun shared this thought too and quickly put his hand and forearm on the back of Wonpil’s head.

The loud thud from the fall still lingered in the air even after a couple of seconds.

Wonpil didn’t even know what was going on anymore.

There he was. On the sidewalk lying down, a bit in pain from his crushed ribs due to the rather large man on top of him. The sound of the bus stopping and opening it’s old and worn doors clear in his ears like the heavy panting from both him and Younghyun. After a couple of more seconds of trying to catch his breath, Wonpil felt something soak the back of his head.

Quickly, Wonpil pushed Younghyun off him and saw the pool of blood caused by the injured forearm. 

At the same time he heard the bus engine roar from being put into gear to drive. 

/im going to be late/ is all that went through Wonpil’s mind.

Wonpil grabbed his bag next to him and bolted towards the bus with the little energy he had left. 

In the end, he did make it onto the bus. And he did make it on time. Not his usual twenty minutes early time. But on time. There was a different bus driver this day and that usually wouldn't be an issue, however this driver was obviously new to the route, with two missed turns. Even so, he checked in five minutes before the required time and with a breath of relief, he made his way to the washroom to wash up the sticky substance on the back of his head and shirt.

When he did step onto the third floor however, it was 7:01. And Jaebum was seemingly waiting for him at the entrance of the elevator. Dread started to fill Wonpil while authority started to fill Jaebum as they met eyes. 

“So,” Jaebum started, “why are you not at your desk?” 

“I- ‘m sorry I g-got caught up in something in my neighborhood.” With each second Wonpil stared into Jaebum’s menacing eyes, he felt himself recoil and get smaller.

“I see. Wait for me in my office where we can discuss the reprimands.” 

Jaebum then pushed Wonpil out of the elevator completely and stepped in. The sound of the elevator doors closing was loud, but Wonpil couldn’t hear anything besides his panicked heart. He walked into the hall of cubicles to put his stuff down and heard his coworkers laughing and whispering to each other. What was so funny? Most of the time the employees at this company were so serious Wonpil was worried that one of their forehead veins would someday pop. He looked at the lady in the cubicle next to his and saw her smirking at him.

Wonpil shuddered at the sudden wet coldness from his shirt and quickly stepped into his cubicle. 

/fuck why is there still blood/ Wonpil thought as he felt the back of his head and pulled his hand to his face to see dark red liquid staining his hand. He couldn’t go to the bathroom again to clean up however. He needed to get into Jaebum’s office before he gets into even more trouble. 

Wonpil didn’t have any jacket to cover up his water mixed blood soaked shirt so he just walked to the intimidating office with guilt and blood on his hands. When he sat down, he listened carefully for the sound of the door opening and tried to make up a good enough excuse for why he was late. About fifteen or twenty minutes later, the door opened. 

Wonpil looked behind him in a rush and stood up to bow when he saw Jaebum walking in. 

They both sat down and looked at each other. Or at least Jaebum was, Wonpil’s eyes were chained to his bony wrists. 

“Why were you late.”

“I got caught up in an accident a block from my house, sir. I’m sorry.”

“I told you, you would be punished if you were late to work. Yet, here we are.”

Wonpil didn’t say anything.

“Here’s the deal, there are now going to be some changes for you Won- Wonpil correct.” Jaebum made it obvious with his tone that he was going to be the one speaking. “You are no longer going to be on the third floor. You will now be doing your work on the- fifth floor, you’ll like it there. I expect you to be wiped clean from this floor in twenty minutes.”

“Yes, sir”

That didn’t go so- bad? Right? He probably just had to do a different kind of work now. Stay calm. He was being probamatic.

Luckily, Wonpil barely had anything at his desk and could fit all of his belongings in his work bag. He made his way to the fifth floor for the first time. When the elevator opened, Wonpil was astounded to hear chaotic shouts and laughter. There was a large group of people next to to the copy machine and printer laughing hysterically. Well, most of them. Some of the workers in the group looked disinterested in the topic and a few looked plainly uncomfortable. Interesting. There was no sign of their supervisor either. Maybe they were in their office. There seemed to be no one in their cubicles so Wonpil assumed that they were on a break. 

“Um excuse me? I was transferred here from the third floor, where will my cubicle be?” Wonpil asked a friendly looking woman on the outskirts of the crowd.

Her friendly eyes soon turned grim and cocky. 

“Were you late?” She asked while smirking. Wonpil gave a nod of confirmation. 

“Pft. You’re a fool to be late. And for what? Does it have to do with the blood on your shirt? Because helping a bitch give birth at fuck o’clock is a shit idea.” She gave Wonpil a truly twisted smile as another woman beside her gave a chuckle. That wasn’t even a good joke- or whatever that was.

Still, Wonpil stepped back in horror. Was that even appropriate to say while working? 

Before Wonpil could suppress his shock, the same lady yelled over the laughter.

“Yah! Everyone meet red hands! He was late to work so now, he’s here!” Every eye shifted towards him. Wonpil felt chills run up from his toes through his spin and back. The ones who seemed uncomfortable and the ones who looked disinterested had plastered smiles on the moment they laid eyes on him.

“Hey pretty boy, what’s your name, floor, and year at work?” A man from the center asked.

“Kim Won-Wonpil, third floor, and third year.”

“How late”

“A minute.”

Some other man chucked despite the silence and added, “Damn, that’s unlucky.” 

“Well Wonpil,” the previous man started, “I’m Na Kyungil, fifth’s floor supervisor, you’ll like it here.” He said with a generic smile. “And you’ll be working in the cubicle closest to the elevator on the right.”

No other information was given by the strange man and the noise started up again and so Wonpil just bowed and started to walk to his new cubicle. 

After he had fully set up his desk, everyone started to go back to their respected cubicles. Kyungil went into Wonpil’s cubicle and started to talk to him with a serious poker face. 

“You’re going to be doing what you’ve always done ok boy? Organizing papers. Same format as third floor. Same rules. Same everything.” With that, Kyungil left a stack of papers on Wonpil’s desk. Wonpil put on his headphones when the supervisor left and played classical music to get rid of the frustrating headache he had. He also needed to get rid of the blood so he stuck his MP3 player in his pocket and went out looking for the bathroom. Once he had found it, he washed his hands and proceeded to clean up the mess on his back. It was honestly surprising that Kyungil had not scolded Wonpil for his appearance. However, you never want to be too sure, so Wonpil was going to wash out all the remaining blood he could.

Wonpil couldn’t reach the back of his white collared shirt so easily and his arms started to ache from the constant stretching. He pulled his arms inward to his chest and left the sleeves hanging. Wonpil started to turn the shirt around when Kyungil entered the bathroom staring at him. Wonpil immediately stopped and realized how unprofessional this looked to his new boss, with his shirt soaked in water in some places, the back of his hair dripping with water, and his torso looking like a monster got in with both arms inside. He tried to put his arms back into the sleeves to explain himself with a little dignity but the sleeves were on his front and back, not sides. 

Kyungil looked at his shirt and then met his eyes. There was nothing but empty sound before the man bursted out laughing. Wonpil began to turn red from embarrassment and lowered his head in shame. By the time Kyungil stopped laughing, Wonpil had went to heaven and back to ask god why he disliked him. “Hey, hey now, pretty boy, looks like you need help.” 

“Oh u-um, no I don’t. I was just- getting rid of the spill I had e-earlier. I’m sorry, this is unprofessional I’ll get back to wor-“

Wonpil wasn’t able to finish his garble when his boss suddenly stepped a little too close. Kyungil still had smiling eyes as he yanked the shirt’s sleeves in the respected place. “Put your arms through.” He said in a firm but playful tone, a trade mark of his that Wonpil has identify in the limited time he spent with the man. 

“What?” Wonpil replied, dumbfounded. 

“I,” Kyungil placed both of his hands on Wonpil’s forearms through the shirt, “said,” now forcing them up, “to put,” his arms were awkwardly bent, “them through” Kyungil yanked the limbs through the sleeves. Minus how his arms felt roughly handled, Wonpil now had his shirt on correctly. “There we go, now you’re ready for work. Get to it.” The last sentence was emphasized with a smack to the employee’s lower back. 

With a quick thanks, Wonpil ran out of the bathroom and sped to his cubic, it was already feeling like his second home. Not that his home felt any safer than this box. 

:

After the twelve hours has past and Wonpil started to pack up. He was completely overworked and utterly tired. The extra events that had happened really took a toll on him and for once Wonpil was eggar to go home. His new coworkers took a toll on him too. Every single time he had stood up to get more papers or coffee, someone would try and strike a conversation with him, which usually lead to them pacifily insulting him. Wonpil guessed that it was pretty easy to find fault in him, so it was to be expected, he didn’t mind. He really didn’t. However, with every one-sided conversation, Wonpil had a sole thought replaying in his head.

/this is just the first day with them/

Wonpil stood up with his bag and stepped out of his cubicle when his new supervisor stopped him with a hand. 

“Hey pretty boy, what’s the rush? Where are you heading off to?” His trade mark voice seemed louder in Wonpil’s ears for some reason. 

“Oh um, I fin-finished my shift, so I was going to go home.” 

With a feign surprised look, the man exclaimed, “Did you now? I didn’t realize, sorry sorry~”. He took a step closer and took both of his hands to smooth down Wonpil’s sleeves, lingering much too long on his wrists for comfort, “See you tomorrow, Wonpil.” One last moment before the man turned away. Wonpil ignored the burning on the insides of his wrists and stepped onto the elevator with another man. 

Good thing all the other did was scoff and looked him up and down, Wonpil doesn’t think he could handle another conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao im not limiting myself to chapters anymore. I think you should all just ignore my notes because this story is such a mess and i keep changing my mind about all of it. I mean, im still going to try and fit this in 5 chapters but dont count on it.  
> I would delete or change the notes but idk how tf to do that so sorry.  
> For all who were waiting for me to update (literally no one), asdfghjKL thank u.  
> School suckssss but i’ll try to work harder on updating.  
> Hope yall liked this chapter, it was basically word vomit.  
> <3


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